


Holding On and Holding It In

by ariedana



Category: Take That
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariedana/pseuds/ariedana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's never found it easy to let others help him. But when he's dealing with the demons in his head, one person has always been there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On and Holding It In

The alert that Jay needed his help never came from Jason himself. No, him admit he couldn’t do it all on his own? Unthinkable! Luckily for Howard and Jason, other people were able to make that call for him.  
  
In the early days, when it was still rare, it was James who tracked Howard down and asked him to keep an eye on Jason, who had looked quite unwell when he was getting tea. Jason was known at the time for his moaning over his tonsils and his knee and all of the sundry ailments he seemed to pile up at times, so at first Howard didn’t think it was anything odd for his friend to feel poorly. But he should’ve known that for the bodyguard to even suggest that something might be going on that required the assistance of someone closer to Jason than himself was potentially serious.  
  
\---------------  
  
“Hi Justin, it’s been awhile,” Howard picked up his mobile on the second ring. It was the German one, which meant that the international roaming was going to be bloody murder, but Jason’s twin wasn’t in the habit of calling for a chat.  
  
Sure enough, Justin Orange was on a mission.  
  
“How, are you in Germany right now?” he asked abruptly. “I know this is a German number. Jay couldn’t remember...”  
  
“Jay couldn’t remember my mobile number?” Howard broke in. “Not a good sign.”  
  
“He’s having an episode,” Justin replied. “Numbers are mixing up in his brain, and his vision’s out. He can’t read the numbers on his contacts.”  
  
“Man, that’s probably frustrating the hell out of him,” Howard winced as if in pain himself.  
  
“He’s hurting too badly to really think about it,” Justin said. “Anyway, I’m actually out of the country right now. Holiday in the Seychelles with Simon and Mum.”  
  
“That’s nice timing,” Howard said. “Why didn’t Jay go with you? I’ve never seen a beach that he didn’t like.”  
  
“He said he wasn’t up to it,” Justin said. “He hasn’t been sleeping well. It’s not a surprise he’s got this kind of a migraine.”  
  
Howard frowned, knowing that for all of them it was no longer a surprise for Jason to ever have this going on.  
  
“I’m on my way over,” he said.  
\-----------------------  
  
That first night, in a dark hotel room in Bayern, Howard found Jason curled in a ball on his bed, pillow pulled over his face as if to smother him if it didn’t completely block out everything. Particularly the pain drilling itself through his brain.  
  
Howard had no idea what was going on. He’d never seen anyone, particularly Jason, look quite so in pain and completely, horrifically tense. But instinctively he knew that the best thing he could do for Jason was diffuse the tension.  
  
So instead of loudly asking what was going on, turning on lights to see his friend or attempting to get him to drink something, eat something, DO something, Howard did the one thing that he did during interviews. He remained silent, reaching out to the bed and slowly stroking the exposed back of Jason’s neck. His mum had always done that to him when he was hurt or ill, and it was instinctive even before he had children of his own.  
  
And yes, that seemed to greatly help Jason, who instinctively melted into the light touch of Howard’s hand. Howard could feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders, knew that they were totally knotted and wondered if that was the source of Jason’s unexplained misery.  
  
“Jay, if you can do it, lie on your belly,” Howard whispered. “I’m going to try to help you.”  
  
Jason, strangely, seemed to almost fight him about that.  
  
“How, I’ll be fine,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything. I can sort it myself.”  
  
Howard couldn’t understand why his friend, currently twisting himself into pretzels due to some unexplained distress, was actually trying to say that he would be fine. He looked like he would be anything but fine without assistance.  
  
“I wanna,” Howard said. “Humour me here.”  
  
Jason looked like he wanted to continue to protest, but like the effort to even talk was making him feel even worse. Then suddenly he pulled up, a hand to his mouth and some unsettling sounds coming from his throat and stomach.  
  
“How, where’s the trashbin?” he asked, looking fairly green. “I have to throw up now.”  
  
Trust Jason to be the one to announce the obvious.  
  
\-----------------------  
  
This time they were not in a cold German hotel, but in equally cold London, with a few blocks separating Howard and Jason’s homes. However, Howard made short work of the walk. He let himself in with the key he’d been given long ago for such occasions, knowing that even hearing a knock or a doorbell could make the situation worse.  
  
He expected Jason to be on the second level, holed up in his bedroom under an impossible number of comforters. Jason tended to get really cold during his episodes. However, he was surprised to see him instead on the couch in his study, sitting with his knees curled up to his forehead as if trying to make himself cylindrical.  
  
Howard again knew that the best thing he could do is do anything he could to make Jason relax. So he reached around Jason as if hugging him from behind, eased Jason’s left arm from its position around his knee, and eventually pulled him into a more relaxed pose, legs on the floor, Jay’s torso twisted around so that Howard was almost cradling him against his chest. His face was buried there, partially using the skin to block out the fading light of the afternoon, but also for comfort.  
  
“Thank you,” Jason whispered quietly.  
  
“Of course,” Howard whispered back **.**


End file.
